#goodlucktai

[klunkcat]

50 VAGUE ANGSTY + HURT/COMFORT DIALOGUE PROMPTS

42. "Tell me what I did wrong! What's wrong with me?!" + rise A Team 🥺

You keep requesting things that I know will hurt ur feelings!!!

TW: panic attack, derealization/dissociation

Waking up in the med bay had been less painful than this. He’d broken fourteen bones and fractured three more, been coughing up blood and some thick substance he was very sure was never supposed to be on the outside but he’d thought, ‘hey, we won’. 

This didn’t feel like winning. This felt like standing on the other side of a very long tunnel and seeing the world from a sideways tilt. 

He’d been allowed out of the med bay for a glorious two days– mostly to lay up on the couch instead of the stiff medical room— and missed somewhere that the world had actually ended. Because when Raph leaned over him to grab his glass of water on the table beside him, Leo flinched. 

It wasn’t him, he decided. Because Leo had never once in his life feared anything from his big brother, not even when Raph had gone through his snapping phase. Because Raph was Raph and that meant the biggest warmest hugs you could imagine, and big wet watering eyes and crying over commercials with kittens that sneezed too hard. It couldn’t be him that saw Raph moving forward and thought of pink, slimy tendrils, and felt his airways closing with a sharp thrum of oh god and I’m going to die, because that didn’t make sense. 

Raph froze, eyes wide. Leo fell further outside himself. 

The other him made his hand move, he didn’t feel it move. The other him spoke. 

“Oh, ha. Sorry, static must have shocked me.” From the blankets, yeah. That made sense. This other him that jumped at things at least had his wits, that was reassuring. 

“Leo,” Raph said very slowly. Some hindbrain red alert crawled all the way up from his heart and right out his mouth, and into that other version of him that was staying very still. 

“I didn’t— I didn’t mean to.” 

Raph put his arm down just as slowly, leaned back like he could telegraph every moment. His eyes stayed wide and locked on to him. “Okay, that’s okay.” 

“It wasn’t you,” the other him said, and Leo couldn’t feel his lips moving but he desperately wanted to be able to shut him up. “It wasn’t um— just. Jumpy. Pulled something funny, you know with the. The bandages.” 

Shit, Leo thought. Stick to the script, pal. 

“Right,” Raph said, without blinking. Like he was thinking something else. 

“Don’t do that,” other him said. “Okay, the big brother voice thing. I don’t need it, let’s just. Watch the movie, right?” 

He was suddenly aware of Donnie by his kneecaps, Mikey staring at him from the mound of pillows he’d made at Don’s legs. He needed this other him to shape up, acting classes were a must. He was flubbing big time, Leo did not flub. 

Raph shifted again, molasses slow, and gave Donnie a look. His twins face twitched with a nod, and he summarily picked up Mikey, blanket and all and shuffled into his lab. Traitor, Leo thought vaguely. Pincer attack, coordinated front. He hated that. That was his and Don’s thing.

Stepping on my turf, he meant to say. Other Leo’s mouth didn’t move, so he was useless. 

“Actually, Raph’s a little worried.” 

Oh, Leo thought, oh no. Fear lanced through him again, in some distant way. He could see his fingers twitching and couldn’t make them stop. “Worried? About what. Can I help, big guy?” 

Raph hummed. “Think you could, yeah. We haven’t talked about everything that happened, have we?” 

Well, Mikey had made him talk a little, about why he thought it would be okay to choose himself without telling anyone else first. Hugged him as tightly as he could with Leo’s broken ribs for three solid hours until Leo’d given in and promised he’d be kinder to himself. Donnie had been furious at him for three straight days somewhere after he’d blearily woken up from his coma, but they hadn’t talked directly about why yet. Suddenly, the look he’d caught clicks.

He was still too outside himself to react the right way. Other Leo looked away and twisted the blanket in his hands. 

Ever so slowly, he felt Raph’s warm hand land on his knee. He could see it, his big brother’s hand, green and normal. No spikes, no pink. He could breathe out— there was a rope somewhere there that guides him closer enough that he can flip his own hand around and squeeze. 

“Nothing to talk about, bro bro,” Leo managed, but it was croaky and lacking all the usual fizz. Fizzless, him. The horror was nearly too much to think about. 

The look Raph gave him was half a wince of apology, half tangled up exasperation. He didn’t like that there was guilt there. That didn’t fit. Raph hadn’t done a single thing wrong. 

“Leo.” 

He made himself swallow. “Raphala.” 

Raph sighed. Flipped Leo’s hand over so he could stare down at the bandages crossing his palm. He’d burnt the inside of his fingers somehow, he couldn’t even say when it happened. Silly, really. He’d laughed when Don had told him. Come to think of it, Dee hadn’t really looked like he’d agreed with the joke then either. 

He watched the way Raph traced his thumb across the white gauze, the way his face twisted and crashed down with mounting horror. 

“I’m so sorry, Leo. You know I love you, right?”

Other Leo made a second appearance, making his hands go numb. “I— of course? I love you too, what does that—?”

Raph’s non bandaged eye blazed when he looked up at him, swimming in the dim movie light. “I hurt you, Leo. I took your trust and I hurt you with it. Raphie’s so sorry.” 

That didn’t— Leo blinked rapidly. The world fell out of focus, clicked free of its puzzle piece board. Out into the ether. “Stop apologizing.” 

“Leo—”

“No!” Other him said it sharp, loud. Too electric behind the words, he winced at himself and didn’t feel his face move. “You don’t— you don’t get to apologize to me. That doesn’t— what are you talking about Raph?” 

Somehow his brother’s face only fell further, it made the panic in Leo’s chest sticky. “I said that wrong, I don’t—” It was so hard to think, why couldn’t he make himself think? “I’m not afraid of you! I’m not.” He wasn’t. Because it was Raph. 

“It’s okay if you are, buddy. Raph understands—” 

“I’m not!” Leo bit out, and blinked rapidly again as the world falls further out to sea. “I put you in danger, I jumped in and— I did something stupid, and you got brainwashed. Because I fucked up. Why aren’t you mad at me? Tell me what I did wrong!”

What’s wrong with me, he thought, vibrant and liquid like toxic sludge seeping down to his core. 

He couldn’t even see right anymore, everything had gone shapes and colors. It wasn’t even Raph in front of him, it was something. It was nothing and— 

“--breathe with me, okay? In. Out, that’s it. That’s perfect, Bug, keep doing that.” 

The Bug snapped him together, pulls all of his strings forward. Raph hadn’t called him that since they were toddlers, when he and Donnie had started insisting being twins and Raph tried to play along. Bug and Boo, he’d said all proud. Donnie had hated it instantly and rebuked any attempt at being called something so sweet by biting. Leo’d tried to make it fit a little better, since Raph seemed to like it so much.

‘S it b’cause I bug you?’ Leo’d said, sad and puddling up but hiding it with a teasing smile he knew would make the hurting less loud. 

Raph had smoothed his hand across his head and grinned. ‘It’s cause you’re my favorite bug.’ But it sounded like a good thing when Raph said it. 

Leo forced in a breath, feels his hands become his hands and his toes firmly plant as his toes. “Sorry,” he managed. “Sorry, went. Um. Somewhere. Back.” 

Raph’s big worried eye peered down at him, he let go of Leo’s hand with a firm squeeze. Leo shook his head, clearing out all the fuzz as much as he could. 

“I need you to hear me, just for a second. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Raph tried, worry making his voice small. “Can you believe me on that one thing? You were brave, and you got us through it, and most importantly you got Leo through it. I’m not mad.”

Leo scoffed, staring down at the blanket instead. Raph carefully scrubs a hand across the top of Leo’s head, warm and calloused the way he knows. 

“Raph wanted you safe. That’s all. And I hurt you, so it’s okay if you— if you need time.” 

Leo snapped his eyes up, grabbing at Raph’s hand again even before he pulled away. “I don’t! I don’t need you to go anywhere, or leave or. Please don’t leave.” 

Raph’s face gentled. 

“Can we just,” Leo couldn’t look at him, he couldn’t. “Can we just stay here for a minute? Maybe talking can be later.” When it wasn’t him and other him preferably, so he could say things the right way.

“Okay.” 

Raph settled back on the couch, slowly lifting his arm free and telegraphing the space underneath for Leo to decide. As if he needed to decide, the best place in the world was in Raph’s hugs. He’d always fit perfect there. 

Raph smoothed his hand across Leo’s head with his thumb, back and forth.The warmth pulled him all the way back into himself, almost with a shudder. Leo squeezed his eyes shut and buried his snout further into Raph’s side. It made him brave. “I’m not scared of you. I’ve never been scared of you, big guy.”

Raph’s thumb paused. Smoothed back again. “It’s okay if you are. That was… pretty scary.” 

Leo shook his head stubbornly. “Wasn’t you. I know my big brother anywhere. That wasn’t him.” 

He pretended kindly not to hear the hitch in Raph’s breathing. The warm chuckle after is like lottery gold. 

“Thanks, bug. I know you, too.” 

[oneshimaru]

Commission for @goodlucktai! + Speedpaint

🌻 commission prices | kofi 🌻

[owletstarlet]

patron saint of the lost causes (1/2)

“You can stop looking at him like that.” Taki’s voice is frank, but not unkind. Katsumi could not be less in the mood for whatever the hell kind of conversation this is about to be. “Like what,” he replies anyhow. “Like you broke his best friend."

(For @goodlucktai. You know what you did.

ao3 link | part 2

The thing is, Katsumi really doesn’t want to hear that he couldn’t have known what was going to happen. He knows. Knows because nobody will let him forget it. Knows from his 2AM search history the night after, curled up on his side on a guest futon in the Fujiwaras’ sitting room, feeling pinned down by the blue glow of his phone screen under the duvet.

Here’s how it happens.

***

It’s not that it’s uncomfortable, exactly, to be alone with Tanuma Kaname while walking the forty-five minute round trip between the temple and the combini through nothing but trees and rice paddies and still, thick summer air. Tanuma’s a decent guy. Quiet, thoughtful. And, as he’d made very clear within two minutes of Katsumi meeting him, fiercely loyal.

All good traits, really. But carrying a completely meaningless conversation with someone he honestly doesn’t know all that well doesn’t seem to be within his skill set. And that’s fine, it’s whatever.

It’s just that Katsumi’s starting to feel like a jackass when he’s the only one who’s talking.

School’s been out less than a week, and for some godforsaken reason he’s been talked into coming all the way out to Hitoyoshi by the group chat he’d been added to months ago, for some other godforsaken reason. The conversation had turned to potential vacation plans—the seaside, or a theme park. And it’s not like Katsumi would’ve said no; he’s got a whole month to fill here. But when Tanuma had either hedged or failed to respond altogether, the others had gotten it out of him pretty quickly that the better part of the month both before and after Obon would be full up with temple preparation and events. Apparently, even back when the temple had still stood vacant, some of the locals who had ancestors’ graves out in the crumbling cemetery there would still come out to tidy up as best they could and leave behind their flowers and incense and prayers. This is the second Obon since the temple had reopened, and not only were more visitors expected, but they’d need to be able to properly host them and provide an adequate place of worship.

From just that couple of messages, the others seemed to work out in short order just how overwhelmed he was. Which was news to Katsumi; sure, the guy wasn’t much of a texter, or talker, for that matter—but the messages had just seemed brief, concise, and apologetic.

But when they all show up on the temple doorstep a week later and Katsumi sees the way Tanuma’s shoulders sag with sheer relief, he knows the others were right.

Thus began a multi-day frenzy of scrubbing wood floors, polishing every metal surface within an inch of its life, weeding, dusting, and near-vicious refusals of Tanuma’s father’s offers to compensate them for their efforts. Katsumi certainly wasn’t against the concept of getting paid for busting his ass like this all day, but the man was drowning in paperwork and nonstop phone calls and visitations on top of whatever else it is that priests do all day, so he’d let it drop.

“He really does just radiate that dutiful son energy, huh,” Katsumi says to Kitamoto one day, leaning on a rake and blinking the sweat out of his eyes in the brutal 2PM heat, watching Tanuma pause to tug a crooked, bright red knit cap back into its place on the head of a tiny Jizo statue with endless care. He didn’t mean it as an insult, but it sounds kind of dickish coming out of his mouth anyhow. “Just looking at him is making me tired.”

Kitamoto hums. “That’s part of it,” he says, at length. “But this is his home, too.”

***

Katsumi feels sort of bad that Tanuma has to make this annoyingly long walk just because he himself doesn’t know how to get to the nearest Lawson. He’d lost a fierce, best-of-ten coin flip battle with Nishimura over whose turn it was to pick up snacks. It’s not that it’s a nightmarish distance away considering they’re on the bare outskirts of town, it’s just the late afternoon sun beating down on them that makes him ready to commit  homicide. And most of the way there between the wooded temple grounds and the main residential area is along a dusty gravel road between sunken rice fields, riddled with potholes and not especially worth it to navigate with a bike.

And Lawson isn’t even good.

Precisely none of this is Tanuma’s fault. This is an objective fact that he, of course, knows.

But they’ve only just left the store, and Katsumi ran out of random topics to fill up the stagnant air about ten minutes ago. The best he’s got at the moment, short of intermittent bitching about the heat, is his completely unfounded opinion of some new game he’d seen an ad for at the register which he never intends to play.

And Tanuma doesn’t look especially anxious, or at least not like he’s here under duress or anything—he was the one who volunteered to show Katsumi the way— but he doesn’t look especially comfortable, either. He’s already fished a bottle of tea out of the shopping bag, fiddling with the wrapper between sips and watching the dusty gravel crunch beneath their shoes. His responses aren’t rude, just a little off key, a subdued smattering of ‘oh’s and ‘hm’s and ‘I see’s that don’t always quite sync up with Katsumi’s words, a second too late or too early.  

Maybe it’s the truly ridiculous heat that’s getting to the guy. But he’s drinking his tea, and he’s wearing the same old wet towel he’s had slung around his neck all week, ojiisan style. He’d just re-soaked it again in the little sink outside the combini bathroom. It’s funny, Katsumi thinks, that Tanuma’s such a painfully self-conscious person, but then there’s these odd little things here and there that it doesn’t even seem to occur to him to be self-conscious about at all. He didn’t get out much as a kid, from what Katsumi’s heard. It’d be almost endearing if Katsumi was in any sort of mood to be endeared. As it stands it’s too fucking hot out here and now he kind of wants a stupid neck towel too.

Katsumi doesn’t want to make shit awkward, not when he’s staying in his house. But why had it been somehow easier to talk to Tanuma when they were being chased around some hell-mansion about to be murdered by some ghost-doll-things.

He’s not gonna take it personally. Even with his actual friends, where he seems most at ease, Katsumi’s seen him get fidgety, fingers worrying at a fraying shirt hem or drumming on his knee like he doesn’t always quite know how to physically handle too many eyes on him at once, or so many voices in the room. And more often than not, if one of the others picks up on this, he’s seen them seamlessly take the volume down a notch, give him some room to breathe, a little radius of calm. As though his comfort level is some sort of sixth sense for them all.

And Katsumi’s starting to wonder if running his mouth so that Tanuma wouldn’t have to was really the best course of action here. Maybe silence, comfortable or otherwise, would’ve spared them both.

Hell, too late now.

“…and it’s only available on the newest consoles, because of course it is, and even though Sakatani managed to get his hands on a copy and says he’ll let me play, apparently the graphics are kind of ass, so—uh. You good over there?”

Tanuma’s pinching the bridge of his nose, mouth twisting a little and pace falling a half-step behind Katsumi. He doesn’t really answer, just gives an absent diplomatic little hum like he has done for most of the conversation.

Katsumi stops walking.

“Hey.”

And Tanuma honest-to-god almost shuffles right past him, reaching up to rub at his temple now. He only stops when Katsumi snags the strap of the little freezer bag that he’d brought in a thoughtful yet desperate bid to keep the drinks cold and the tops of Nishimura’s chocorooms from all melting together inside the box. Tanuma blinks hard, like all the dust in the air has gunked up in his eyes.

Katsumi frowns. “Your head hurts?”

Tanuma just blinks again, nods once. The look on his face is strange. Vague, kind of.

Katsumi swears under his breath. “Hey,” he says again, louder, when Tanuma’s gaze slides away and out of focus. He grabs his shoulder, shakes him just enough to get his hazy attention back.

“Is this some youkai thing?” He tries to make the words slow and clear. “’Cause if we need to run…” Their chances wouldn’t be stellar, probably, out in the very-wide-open with no visible houses or people that Katsumi can see, but if they booked it they might make it back to the temple in 20 minutes. Barring being gutted in a rice paddy by invisible monsters.

Tanuma frowns, like he’s trying to grasp at the edges of his focus. “I don’t…”

“You don’t know? Or you don’t think so?” If there were time, Katsumi would feel like an ass for getting in his face and snapping at him. But he can feel Tanuma listing forward where he’s still gripping his shoulder, and he puts another hand under his elbow to steady him. “Should I call someone?”

Blink, blink. Apparently, that was too many questions at once. “…hot,” is what Tanuma finally settles on, in a small voice. Then his knees buckle.

Fuck.

Katsumi just barely manages to keep Tanuma from a total faceplant. He’s not so heavy, but it’s so abrupt that trying to catch him sends Katsumi falling back hard onto his own ass as Tanuma’s knees hit the ground.

Katsumi yelped as they went down, but Tanuma hasn’t made a sound. They’re both on their knees. Katsumi’s got him by the shoulders, and his head’s lolling forward, bumping into Katsumi’s chest.

And, shit. He was not lying. Katsumi can feel the heat rolling off him. He manages to maneuver a hand up to the side of his neck, and very nearly yanks it away, hissing through his teeth.

“Right, so,” he mutters. “Probably not youkai shit, then.”

Probably not doesn’t mean definitely not, though, and even as he’s trying to lower Tanuma fully onto the parched ground, curled onto his side, Katsumi’s fishing out his phone.

One bar. He’ll take it.

He hesitates for a second, torn between dialing Natsume, firing off a group message, or just calling an ambulance. He settles on the first—Natsume’s got the fastest mode of transport, which also happens to be an apparently giant and terrifying monster, if Sensei’s own words are to be believed, so that’s two birds one stone.

He hits Natsume’s name, fingers shaking.

And, dead air. Not even a dial tone.

He swears, checks the screen. Zero bars. A stupid little red x where the bars ought to be.

Goddamn backwoods towns and their goddamn backwoods reception.

“Hey.” He lays a hand on Tanuma’s shoulder. Katsumi can’t see his face, but his breaths are coming short and harsh. “I’m gonna borrow your phone.”

Less than one minute later and he’s given it up. Tanuma’s got the same network carrier, and an older phone to boot. It’s like there’s some fucked-up barricade made of yellowing rice fields, choking air and far-off cicada screeches between themselves and outside human contact.

Well then.

Tanuma’s eyes are open now. Not a lot, but that’s got to be better than passed out. Katsumi manages to work an arm under his shoulders, get his opposite hand under his head and neck. “Let’s get some tea in you,” he says, because he’s not sure what the fuck else to do. He can feel a pulse that’s far too quick thrumming under his fingertips, can see the intense splotchy flush across his cheeks that seems to have crept up out of nowhere. Tanuma doesn’t answer him, just scrunches up his eyes against the direct sun on his face, makes a small pained noise that makes Katsumi feel ill.

Making him drink turns out to be less than an inspired plan. He doesn’t seem to register the tea at first, letting it dribble down his chin, but then after a few slow gulps, he gags. And then proceeds to be sick, all over Katsumi.

“Eh. Didn’t like this shirt, anyways,” Katsumi tells him, hoping to exude literally any emotion other than pure terror, and barely managing to turn Tanuma’s face away in time before he gags again.

By the time he finishes, there’s tears in his eyes, and his breaths are coming ragged and loud. He doesn’t seem to notice that Katsumi’s dug through the combini bag, sliding the 2 liter of mugicha under his head and neck like a pillow, and tucked the bottle of Calpis that Taki had asked for underneath his armpit. The rest of Tanuma’s own bottle he upends over his neck and chest, soaking his towel and the top of his shirt. That, at least, elicits a reaction, a faint confused “hm” that would be perfectly reasonable for anyone whose friend has just drenched them in a bottle of jasmine tea.

It makes Katsumi smile, just a bit. “Gotta cool you down. Sorry.” He’s got no idea if it’s the correct thing to do; he’s based the entire tactic on some random lackluster TV drama he’d seen years ago, where some captain of a school track team overheated during a practice, and her teammates tried to care for her on the field while someone fetched a teacher.

At the very least, it didn’t seem to be hurting. His eyes are open wider now, marginally less clouded over. Katsumi’s positioned him on his side again in case of more puking, his cheek squashed against the tea bottle, and he seems to be focused on some spot on the gravel past Katsumi. He looks like he wants to say something, mouth forming around the shape of words, but nothing comes out.

Katsumi turns. There, lying maybe a half meter away on the ground, is something small and rectangular. Some kind of talisman, Katsumi thinks; it’s made of thin pale wood and covered in some inked-in kanji and symbols he can’t make out. He doesn’t touch it, at first. “This is yours?”

Tanuma nods, just a little, then screws his eyes shut like his head is protesting the movement. But by his side his fingers twitch vaguely in Katsumi’s direction. It must’ve fallen out of his pocket when Katsumi was getting his phone. Katsumi scoops it up and places it in his palm, and Tanuma’s fingers close immediately around it.

He digs his own phone out again, an exercise in futility, and dials 119, resisting the urge to chuck it into the field as the call refuses to connect. It’s not like he couldn’t half-drag, half-carry Tanuma back towards the nearest house if he really needed to, but god knows how long it’d take, and even with his net zero medical expertise it seems like a bad idea to be moving him from this spot unless it’s on a stretcher, or on the back of a giant invisible wolf monster.

Tanuma’s staring at nothing at all again, his knuckles white from gripping the talisman. Katsumi frowns, grabs Tanuma’s wrist.

“You’re gonna break it. The wood’s pretty thin.”

Tanuma, predictably, ignores him. Even as weak as he is, with his thumb digging into the center of the thing, he’s likely to snap it in half.

But he doesn’t, or can’t, resist when Katsumi takes it from him. “Let’s keep this in one piece, huh. We need all the damned luck the gods want to chuck our way right now.” He’s about to slide it safely back into Tanuma’s pocket when he pauses, glancing down at the talisman.

“You’re sure nothing’s about to pop out and eat us, right?”

But Tanuma’s eyes have fallen shut again. He doesn’t seem to have passed out; he’s still gasping like he’s run a marathon.

“Right. Gonna take that as a yes.” He finishes tucking the talisman away, then slides his hand up under Tanuma’s fringe. He frowns. The intense heat, he was expecting. What he was not expecting was the desert-dryness of his skin. Katsumi’s own hair’s been plastered grossly to his forehead all week long, only to poke up and frizz at odd angles throughout the day. He hadn’t noticed earlier because of the damp towel and the tea-soaked shirt, but Tanuma’s not sweating.

He swallows back panic. God knows how he’s got any more panic to spare, really. “Look,” he says, not expecting an answer. “Nobody’s coming, because apparently nobody in this entire fucking town uses this road except us, so I’m gonna get help.” He blows out a breath. “I think we passed a pay phone. Ten minutes ago? Maybe less. I’ll make it five. If you get eaten by monsters while I’m gone and I ran in this weather for nothing I am gonna be pretty damn irritated.”

***

The only coffee the vending machines have, at least on this floor, is some dismal off-brand that only comes black. But Katsumi resolutely ignores the acid roiling in his stomach when Kitamoto passes him one and pops the tab. It’s something to do. Chug coffee, scroll his phone. Rinse, repeat. At least it’s cold.

“Hey.”

Something lands in his lap. A squashed-looking cinnamon roll, another vending-machine offering.

“Eat that too or you’ll puke again, probably,” Nishimura tells him.

Katsumi has to bite back the reflexive dickish retort. Nishimura looks just about as shit as Katsumi feels, but he’s still got it in him to be kind. Katsumi’s got nothing in him but raw nerves and stomach acid, at this point.

“Right,” he mutters. “Thanks.”

There’s not even a good reason anymore for the weird shitty haze over his brain. When Tanuma’s dad had called, just before three AM and only two-ish hours after they’d been forced to leave the hospital last night, the news had been good. He was awake, talking a little, and the fever definitely wasn’t gone but the numbers were creeping back downwards. They’d need a few days, at least, to run some barrage of tests and keep an eye out for lasting damage. Tanuma’s dad had been judiciously vague about just what kind of damage, but the half dozen browser pages on heatstroke currently open on Katsumi’s phone had given him a pretty grim idea.

The Fujiwaras’ house had been closest to the hospital, so they’d spent the remainder of the previous night all sleepless and huddled together on the floor of Natsume’s room. Katsumi hadn’t even put up a fight when they’d dragged his futon into the very center of the room between Kitamoto’s and Natsume’s, when Nishimura had idly flopped his own legs over Katsumi’s, or when Taki pulled up some aggressively cheerful magical girl anime on Natsume’s laptop to fill the dead air. When Sensei had tucked himself in by Katsumi’s hip and gone to sleep. When Touko-san had patted his arm, after their very late dinner, her eyes so gentle it hurt. He’d felt liminal, then, like he’d take off and run if he could just escape his own skin, but at least with the others all squashed up against him he could remember to breathe.

It's past 10 in the morning now. Visiting hours had started at 9, and they’d all piled on the first scheduled bus towards the hospital this morning and arrived before 8, anyhow. They had, of course, not been allowed to step foot out the door without a bag loaded up with bento lunches and a firm promise to Touko-san they’d be back by late afternoon when visiting hours had concluded to get some rest. Though she’d been saying something about “getting some things ready” to bring over herself for Tanuma and his dad, and based on the look on her face when she’d said it Katsumi’s half expecting her to march through the waiting room doors in the next hour or two like a woman on a mission with half the contents of the closest supermarket and drugstore loaded up in her arms. The thought makes his chest feel tight.

But they’d shown up just in time to be informed that Tanuma had an MRI among other things scheduled that morning, and that no, they did not know how long it would take.

Across from Katsumi, Natsume’s dozed off, despite his own best coffee-fueled efforts. He’s slumped sideways onto Taki, lank-haired and restless, flicking through an old magazine with disinterest as her heel bounces on the scuffed linoleum. Sensei’s perched across both their laps, still absurdly half-stuffed into the duffel bag in which they’d smuggled him through the hospital doors, which seems pretty pointless to Katsumi if he’s just going to sit there with his entire head sticking out at this point. But he seems entirely unbothered, his eyes closed; maybe asleep, maybe not. But they’re the only ones tucked over in this little alcove of a waiting room, and damn if not a soul has interrupted them for a good two hours.

It’s probably for the best that Natsume’s getting some sleep, really. He hadn’t gotten any more than Katsumi had; Katsumi had heard his muffled hitched breaths last night when they were all pretending to sleep. Out of all of them, he’s said the least this whole time.

“You can stop looking at him like that.”

Taki’s voice is frank, but not unkind.

Katsumi could not be less in the mood for whatever the hell kind of conversation this is about to be. “Like what,” he replies anyhow. 

“Like you broke his best friend,” Nishimura says, lowly, before letting out a slight oof like he’s been elbowed in the ribs.

Damn. Alright then.

None of them seem to be holding their breath for him to respond, at least. They don’t seem to know what to say, either, really. He’s weighing the pros and cons of just fleeing to the bathroom when Kitamoto finally says, “Natsume knows better than anyone that this isn’t on you.”

“Why?” Katsumi feels his gut give a little lurch. “Was it some kind of youkai shit after all, then?”

Taki shakes her head. “I mean, you’ll have to ask him, but. Sensei did go and check the area out last night and ask around and everything, and it all seemed normal.”

Sensei remains silent, naturally, but his ear flicks in Taki’s direction.

Kitamoto’s mouth twists. “What I meant was, just keeling over in random places with no warning or explanation is like. A hobby of Natsume’s.”

“We love it,” Nishimura mutters. “It’s great.”

Sensei huffs.

Katsumi glances at Natsume, still slack and dead to the world on Taki’s shoulder. And okay, maybe he kind of still looks like a stiff breeze could knock him over. But much less so than when they were kids. Less so even than the first time Katsumi had come to this town. “How many times constitutes a hobby?”

And Nishimura frowns, then honest-to-god starts counting on his fingers.

Taki watches him, mouth twisting like she’s considering it. “I guess it depends what counts as keeling over. Or what constitutes a warning.

“Enough times,” Kitamoto says, decisively.

Nishimura scuffs his toe on the floor. “And with me and Acchan, he’d just be lying through his teeth about it, for months, because he didn’t think he could—“

Could what, Katsumi wonders, but Nishimura never finishes the thought. Kitamoto bumps their shoulders together Nishimura huffs, apparently relinquishing the rant building inside him, but Katsumi thinks the look on his face, the tightness in his eyes, is just this side of grief.

“Anyways,” Nishimura says, after an uncomfortable beat, sounding only slightly more subdued. “Even if you don’t wanna hear it, you’re the Big Damn Hero in this situation. No ifs-ands-or-buts, okay. We all know it. Natsume knows it.” Taki nods, flint-eyed like she’s daring him to argue.

“You can’t predict this stuff,” Kitamoto adds, after a moment, his expression hard to parse. “With anyone. And you’ll just make yourself crazy thinking you can.”

“Okay,” is all Katsumi can think of to say. It sounds dismissive, probably, but it’s all he’s got right now. He watches Natsume scrunch up his nose in his sleep. The council hath spoken, and he is too goddamned tired to refute them.

tbc

[fluffyartbl0g]

GREETINGS EVERYONE!!! I've spent the last couple of months working on a full length comic adaption of @goodlucktai's beautiful 'fishbowl' fanfic!!! Below you can read the fruits of my efforts :) Enjoy!

This comic takes place before Dressrosa

CONTINUE >>>

[e-turn]

links to some translations under the cut

и заодно выложу пару любопытным образом перекликающихся переводов потрясающих фанфиков!

тьма нынче обретает жизнь великолепного автора @/goodlucktai

и еще одна покорившая меня зарисовка rem - а тени пусть уходят

[soldrawss]

Some more human turts+Gio because I AM in fact mentally unwell about them. May never actually recover.

The archer au belongs to @goodlucktai

[djpachipikachu]

Now that 2024 is coming to a close:

1) Of everything you've made this year, which ones are you the most proud of?

2) What are a few of your favorite things (art, comics, fics, etc) that someone else has made this past year?

ooh hello okay !

1.

the stuff im most proud of this year areee these guys !

[april 2024]

[july 2924]

[august 2024]

[october 2024]

[november 2024]

[december 2024]

its a lotta stuff just cause ive made WAYYY more finished illustrations this year than i have in super super long its been a really successful year for me in that aspect and im real proud of myself for it :]

2.

goshhh there are so many things ive loved,,, full disclosure i deffo will forget some things there were just so many wonderful things to see ILL ALSO JUST . STICK WITH TMNT/USAGI THINGS BC I HAVE A LOT OF INTERESTS I COULD TALK ABOUT

BIG MAMA’S CHILD BY @hitokshellart

hitok’s become a rly dear friend to me rly fast this year and his au and comic for it is just Incredible work, all of the art they’ve made outside of the comic have yanked my emotions So hard and not to mention their portrayal of qpr leosagi holds such a special place in my heart!!! i love bmc so much

anything by @goodlucktai

i’ve been really slacking on reading fanfics at all this year which is a shame but taizi’s fics are the few i have read and just. Every piece of theirs has been both downright inspiring and have tugged at my heartstrings so much, they really understand characters and how to write them well !! ive really wanted to improve my writing bc of them

cousins au by @hasello

genuinely one of the biggest highlights of the year for me was seeing updates from this au and just art in general from hasello, its just such a loving and domestic au and the dynamics are So Fun and hasello’s art is Perfect for expressing emotions in a way that hits you deeply

honorable mentions

@dustbunsinspace - the most comforting aus and art style and lovely friend

@ashykneecaps6 - SICK ass art style hello my friend Sick As Fuck

@narizen - ik i said id stick with tmnt/usagi things but jay’s oc art and background work and colors and Everything , their style is one of my biggest inspos just incredibly awe inspiring

[some-spinner-in-june]

giorgio hamato, on rediscovering your family

web weave on giorgio hamato of the archer au, created by @goodlucktai, @mykimouser, @soldrawss, and @remedyturtles! such a wonderful character created by wonderful creators <3

---

credits:

raised on little light, taizi || @/soldrawss || northern attitude, noah kahan || raised on little light, taizi || last of the real ones, fall out boy || wild geese, mary oliver || two, sleeping at last || live to let you shine, gibbouslunation et al. || two, sleeping at last || live to let you shine, gibbouslunation || @/soldrawss || @/inkskinned || a vote for the gentle light, charles bukowski || the collected poetry, 1968-1998, nikki giovanni || raised on little light, taizi || @/soldrawss || @/myfakeplasticlove13 || raised on little light, taizi || @/jb-blunk || good bones, maggie smith || raised on little light, taizi || the song, allen ginsburg || @/soldrawss || raised on little light, taizi || orange juice, noah kahan || welcome home, warsaw shire || unknown || raised on little light, taizi || @/soldrawss @/theolddivorcedzukka

[cadriox]

A fanart for I’m Far Away (on my way back to your door)

I’ve adored this fic and nishinatsu since I’ve read this fic, it’s amazing!

Written by Taizi @goodlucktai

Also some nishinatsu doodles

[inkedberries]

commissioned by @goodlucktai of their oc Gio!💙

my commissions are still open if anyone is interested

[klunkcat]

50 VAGUE ANGSTY + HURT/COMFORT DIALOGUE PROMPTS

7. "Did they hurt you?" gio + author's choice :3c

This is foul, just want to say! Not my fault!!!

Gioverse can be found here - this is n!mikey centered because its me <3

His first mistake, in a long line of many, was assuming he could leave for a few hours.

Gio had mentioned in the start-stop way of his that meant more half hedging implications of noticing something than ever an outright statement, that he’d never had broccoli and cheddar cheese soup before. This was, of course, a sin that Mikey had no choice but to right as soon as possible. He’d thought he could be in an out in thirty minutes, maybe an hour tops. Swing by April’s place after giving her a call, pick up the ingredients and head back. Easy peasy. 

He and Gio had really started to crack into his recipe book lately, and the thought was a syrupy sweet palpitation in his chest. Adding one more warm thing to the repertoire of lessons he was bundling the kid in seemed like a wonderful opportunity. 

Except, of course, he’d left Gio alone with them. 

It had been a long minute since Donnie had willingly left his lab, in his defense. More often than not Mikey had to brave the mess of cold wires and empty metal to try and bring dinner to his brother that he knew in his heart of hearts would be forgotten. And Raph rarely stayed in the Lair long enough to do anything other than sleep. He hadn’t thought— well, there was the crux of it. He hadn’t thought at all. 

Returning through the front door with bags of broccoli and the fancy kind of cheddar, he’d been thinking of warmth. Of getting that rare shy smile of Gio’s to shine through once again, just for the two of them. He’d been thinking of kitchen lights and music bouncing off walls, and not at all of the echoes or the empty rooms around them. 

“ – if you think, for one second that he’d– “

“That’s the problem!” Raph’s voice thunders. Mikey’s heart takes a sharp twist and tumbles straight down to the stone floor. “I don’t know anymore. You don’t either! Just— can we stop pretending?” 

A sharp, icy scoff. “Isn’t that what you’re best at, brother of mine? Or is that just Mikey. Should we ask him?”

“Don’t,” Raph growls back. 

“Or what! You’re not even here. Am I the only one who can’t do this? This thing where we act like we can make anything better just because he’s here—” Donnie’s voice pitches up, practically a roar by the end splintering off into a thousand barbs Mikey knew he’d wrap himself in the second that he could. But where is Gio? 

There’s a crash.

The bags fall from his hands to the floor. He takes in the fact Gio’s bedroom door is open, that the lights in the living room are on and— 

It’s all noise and color. Mikey barrelling through, skidding to a stop and registering just enough to note Raph’s balled fists, Donnie’s sharp glare, and Gio, standing just behind the couch, surrounded by shards of glass. Gio’s wide eyes, looking between his brother’s and over at Mikey like he isn’t sure there was anywhere left in the world for him to go. 

No one moves except for him.

He falls to his knees instantly, scooping Gio’s face in his shaking hands. “Are you— did they hurt you? Show me your hands, buddy, okay? I’ll check, I’ll make it better, you’re safe I promise, I—” 

Gio blinks, lets Mikey fuss and turn his hands all over, placating and malleable. There’s a tiny scrape on his knee that looks old, no cuts or nicks on his hands. No red or purple rising on his dark skin. Mikey closes his eyes, leaning his forehead against Gio’s for a shaky breath. 

He feels Gio’s hands reach up and press against his palms. “I’m okay,” he whispers after a moment, voice small and trying not to shake in the way that made his voice flatter. Younger. 

It doesn’t stop him from being terrified, because Gio had grown up somewhere Mikey didn’t know, where pinches and slaps had been handed out as easily as words. And it had taken Mikey all these hard months just to get the kid to stop scanning for exits in every room they stood in, and his brother’s had been yelling.

The thought slows, grinds to a halt. His brother’s had been yelling. About him. 

He makes himself lean back. Glances over at the rest of the room. 

Raph’s face is hollowed out. A complete study in guilt, one hand reaching forward almost unthinkingly. Like the smallest shard of an old Raphie had flickered through for a microsecond before vanishing on both of them. And Donnie– 

“We didn’t know he was here.” Don says, flat as ever. 

Mikey frowns, pulling Gio more firmly into his side. “That doesn’t make it okay.” 

There’s something strange to Donnie’s expression. Guilt? It can’t be. The loss of his twin had warped him so thoroughly that Mikey could never manage to fully understand, and he knows that this Donnie is a facsimile more often than his own person, but he’d thought… It isn’t a kind thought. It isn’t a thought he’s allowed to have anymore. 

“Mikey—” Raph tries, and some of the simmering anger Mikey makes sure he doesn’t have rises up between his breaths. 

“Don’t Mikey me. You were yelling about—” his voice catches, he makes it hold. “About me, right? You think I’m playing pretend. That I don’t know how bad we are.” He remembers that Gio’s here and holds onto the reminder like a buoy in the midst of all this disappointment and hurt, and the things they never say out loud anymore trying valiantly to fight their way through. “I’m not a stupid kid anymore, of course I know!” I know more than you, I know a thousand other worlds more than you, how badly we’re broken, I’ve seen them. 

His hurt crashes against him. “Of course I’m angry! I’m tired, and it’s so hard to try but I can do it  even if you can’t, and I am trying, so just. Stay the hell away and leave Gio out of this!” 

Raph’s face twists, his good eye dropping to the floor. “We thought. I thought he was with you. We wouldn’t hurt him.”

Gio’s warm and still bendable with his need to appease at Mikey’s side. It grounds him in all the same ways it makes all of this so much worse. Wouldn’t hurt him, except they’d yell and glare and avoid, right? Wouldn’t hurt him except that they didn’t know Gio thought he didn’t belong in the one place he should always feel safe. That he thought they hated him.

He opens his mouth, some boiling betrayal burning on his lips— 

“It’s my fault.” Donnie cuts in, still blank and stiff and sharp the way he always is, now. The admission is a tiny miracle nonetheless, and Mikey’s anger dies a quiet heat death in the center of himself. He doesn’t miss the tiny lurch in Gio’s breathing at his side, though. 

No one says anything for a long, horrid moment. Donnie looking straight through Mikey like he’s alone on a dying star; and it aches– it aches all the way through to know it’s an untouchable chill Mikey can’t ever break through even when he tries, and it’s worse to think that he’s used to it, but it’s familiar all the same. Don turns his head, hands flat at his side. 

“I’m the one who can’t do this.” Love right, he means. He doesn’t mean he can’t at all. 

Mikey pulls Gio closer, like he can shield him from the misunderstanding he knows will reach the kid anyways. He feels the words hit Gio, wash over him as Donnie leaves with a hiss of his lab door clicking firmly into place. 

He doesn’t mean it, Mikey thinks of saying helplessly. Except Donnie does mean everything he says, it just exists in stone blocks and hard data now and none of the softness has anywhere to stay. 

Raph watches Donnie leave, and lets out a long sigh. He rubs a hand over his face, and ages rapidly in a thousand eye bag lines all at once. “I’m sorry, kid,” Raph mumbles. Mikey’s not sure if he means Gio. He hasn’t been Raph’s kid in a long time. 

“It’s okay,” Gio says, stiff and quiet. Raph nods to himself, eye gazing emptily at anything but them, and shuffles himself off to his room. 

It’s them, again, like always. Mikey hates the fact he’s relieved enough to let himself untense— that his brother’s could ever exist in the same sentence as danger. It hurts to realize that his instincts have been wired backwards and inverted like this, in this reality Mikey couldn’t save anything from. 

He lets Gio go with a puff of breath and forces himself to stand, tries to find the strength in himself not to cry. There’s a light in him somewhere, still, but it’s different, too. 

Maybe he has been playing pretend in a type of way. Acting like he hadn’t changed as much as everyone else, too. 

Gio’s hand touches his, briefly. “Your knees.” 

He blinks. Oh. There’s blood, patches of it on the floor in between the glittering bits of glass. For a moment he worries that he had missed something after all, that Gio had been hurt— Gio stares nervously at Mikey’s legs where he’d crashed to his knees. 

There’s bloody tears in his pant legs. He doesn’t even feel it.

“Oops,” Mikey tries to laugh. It comes out wavering and pathetic. Gio bites his lip–  isn’t that a thought. All the yelling and the anger and the sheer brokenness of their family, and Gio looks like he might actually cry just over some scrapes from Mikey being stupid. He loves this kid so much it balloons right through him constantly in endlessly shocking ways. 

I’m sorry, Mikey thinks. He’s always sorry these days. “Let me get cleaned up, okay? Then, um. How about a new recipe? Think you’ll love it.” 

Gio looks like he wants to say something, closes his mouth instead. Smiles that tiny way Mikey would burn the world down for, instead. 

Maybe they’re both pretending, really. Maybe that’s all they can do. 

___

Gio grew up cold, it’s an inescapable reality he’s forged his understanding of the world around. There’s a bone deep chill that resides within most places, rooms for things that aren’t to be kept, and stern words meant to correct in straight neat lines. There’s no space for anything else. That’s the reality, kid. 

He’d spent most his life adapting, quick as he could to make the next deadline or the next drop. Make sure he was useful but not too important to be seen, to keep the jobs coming and food for the next day available. 

There was a point A to a point B, a quickest route forward. That’s all he needed. 

When Mikey found him a lot of that had been subsequently shaken apart. A lot of things suddenly meant staying, and promises, and bright room lights that held. Suddenly, food was fun and a given, and could be asked for, and there were laughs bubbling up and bouncing back to him, and warm hands against his cheeks asking ‘are you okay’ just to know. To check. 

He knew what being warm was because he knew the cold. He considered this a gift. 

There isn’t a single atom of himself that doesn’t ache with a deep homesickness he’s not sure he’s allowed to have every second that his Mikey is lost somewhere unreachable, but he is grateful. As much as he loves his family now, and their bright silly constant thrum of life everywhere he goes, he wouldn’t ever have chosen differently. 

If he was cold for nineteen years, it was so his big brother could burn bigger in comparison. 

His family now has plenty of warmth all on their own, but he tries to burn the same way for them all the same.

It’s funny, sometimes; his stomach twists with a fond ache that’s equal parts grief and absolute relief all in one that ties his words up somewhere else he can’t touch, but he misses his Mikey in the same way he loves this one. He wonders if Mikey knows how bright he is, that it’s the bravest thing he’s ever known. He’s also so small, here. Breakable in all the ways he bounces. It’s absolutely terrifying. 

Gio had been fighting in back alley scrapes and life or death battles since he was ten, but that doesn’t mean his little brother should. 

“Did they hurt you?” He asks, scanning absolutely every inch of Mikey’s arms and face he can see. He presses carefully at his sides, where the hard shell and plastron give way to more tender spaces. Mikey giggles instead of flinching, thank god. 

“Gogo~” Mikey complains, laughter bright on his cheeks. “I’ve been in bigger fights last week.” 

“You got thrown through a wall.” 

Mikey waves a hand. “Like, a little.” 

“No, he’s right,” Leo leans over Gio’s shoulder. “That sounded pretty rough. Anything dislocated?”

Gio hates the idea abruptly that any of them know what dislocation feels like, or that it’s regular enough it wouldn’t be obvious. 

“I’m fine, really! I pinky promise double swear.” 

Leo purses his lips. “With sprinkles on top?”  

Raph’s worry sensors must ping at the commotion, because Gio can hear him abruptly switching to Mikey fussing mode from the other room. Mikey’s expression darkens, Gio switches tactics. 

“You’re okay,” he decrees, with a tiny nod. “Soup will fix it.” 

Leo’s muffled snort is worth it for the way Mikey’s eyes light up. 

“Oh! I have broccoli I’ve been meaning to use.” He immediately jumps up, luckily confirming he is in fact just fine in the same motion, and instinctively puts both hands on Gio’s cheeks with excitement. “Oh mama, you have no idea what can of worms you’ve just unleashed. I’m going to make so much soup. How about a new recipe? I think you’ll love it.” 

Gio’s heart does something funny. 

“I’m sure I will,” he smiles back. Warm enough for all of them.

[tmnt-multiverse-election]

Nominees that didn't quite make it

Signal boosting for amazing creators, characters, and aus. Please check them out. I wish you all better luck next year.

Draxum & Donnie @tizeline (Tiz Sep)

Leo @nights-flying-fox & @mostlyvoid-partiallyturtles (Gentle Hands I Don't Recall)

Micheal @gingerchickens (Astray)

Leo @kathaynesart (Replica)

Chompy @probably-not-a-rutabaga (Mutant Chompy)

Kendra @cokoweee (Purple Delusions)

Misa @littlemissartemisia (Misadventures)

Dee @cnwolf-brainrot (Dee-Evolution)

Big Mama @inkypawprint & @sketchiefoxie (When I Was Younger)

The goop & Poptart @intotheelliwoods (2 Arms Left), Beetle Leo (Beetle Leo)

Leo @dandylovesturtles (I Might Be Invisible But I Still Look Good), Leo (Wow Leo)

Mitsui @nova-blues (Sundered By Time)

Bird Leo @alsfunkyalbum (Light as a Feather Stiff as a Turtle)

Donatello Purple Hamato @itsnotillegalyet07 (Ink, Herbs, and Eggshells (Specifically Herbs))

Leonardo @sugarpasteltmnt (Neon Void)

Leonardo @goodlucktai (Problem Child)

Tanner Mayfield @starsinthenigth (Star Bunny)

Future Leo @gooeseyleo (GooseyLeo)

Leo @andistarbee (Extra)

Baby Mikey @pezhead (Age Gap)

Mikey's Cat @anomalysstuff (Anomaly)

Splinter @broken-slime-boi (Grayscale)

Yuichi Usagi @azucar-skull (Feral Casey)

Marcelo @irequirealobotomy (Just Around The Corner)

Leonardo @dancingthesambaa (Star Blind)

Sensei Donatello @theredponcho (Microwave)

Mikey @seaghosstt (TMNT: Bay Area)

Reticent Leo @tmnt-reticent (Reticent)

Future Leo @nani-nonny (Reunion)

Tenoch Oroku @gelu-the-babosa-multiversal (Forgotten Clan)

Evil Donnie @dragonpastels (Cracked Conscience)

Light Fairy Mikey @lara-cairncross (Rottmnt Fairy Au)

April @theartofeverything (In This Together)

Casey Jones Jr @delicatechildwitch (Old Soul)

Shelldon @mostlyvoid-partiallyturtles (Lifetime Achievement Award)

Maro @eternalleader

Villain Mikey @onionninjasstuff (Villain PB&J)

Donnie @jacky_fruit3529 (Deep Water)

Little Leo @misshowdoyoudo (Reminiscing That Old Time)

Donnie @consume6810

Mikey @allyheart707 (Little Subjects)

Prince DubbleBubble & Frigid Leo @sketchiefoxie (Rottmnt x Adventure Time)

Raphael, Chocolate Covered Bananas, & Donnie @remedyturtles (Firefight)

Donatello @cryptidofthecove

Donnie @l0stneverfound (Elemental Madness)

Caiji @gornackeaterofworlds (Butterfly Effect)

Glamrock Raph @thejade-forest (RotTMNT x SB)

Kasey Jones @caseyjones-junior (Krang Parasite)

Cerise Mylene Hamato @fanartmayhem (Mikey's Unplanned Purpose)

Mustachello @revitalizationrat (Mustachello)

Hop @nights-flying-fox (Dimention Hopper Leo)

Dai @sweeneydino (Paper Scales/Little Dragons)

Sensei @remedyturtles (Little Kid with a Big Death Wish)

Hamato Antonello @ants-turquoisewave (Led Astray)

Donnie @phykoha (Tiny Mutant Feral Turtles)

[owletstarlet]

patron saint of the lost causes (2/2)

“You can stop looking at him like that.” Taki’s voice is frank, but not unkind. Katsumi could not be less in the mood for whatever the hell kind of conversation this is about to be. “Like what,” he replies anyhow. “Like you broke his best friend."

ao3 link | part 1

Given every piece of information Katsumi knows or can infer about Tanuma Kaname, it is the most on-brand thing in the world right now for him to be looking both embarrassed and apologetic while also lying in a goddamned hospital bed. Still very much connected, he might add, to all the equipment necessary to prevent his own body from cooking up his brain and all his organs. Doesn’t mean it isn’t weird. And bad. Very weird and very bad.

They’re allowed in to see him in groups of no more than three at a time, and for no more than ten minutes each. He’d been awake and asking about them, but his fever’s still high if no longer imminently lethal, and he’s apparently still groggy from coming off the tail end of some sedative they’d pumped into him hours ago to keep him from shivering while they’d worked to combat said fever. He’s with Natsume, and they’re the first ones in, and that really, truly and honestly blows. Because Natsume’s silent and tense beside him, because Tanuma’s somehow managing to both look like a ghost and also like he really wouldn’t mind ghosthood all that much, eyes that he can’t even keep open all the way fixed on his lap. At least if Nishimura had come in before him, he’d have had a handful of stupid jokes up his sleeve.

Doesn’t help, obviously, that they’ve seemingly got him hooked up to the complete goddamn works here: the IV drip, the cords of the vitals monitors snaking out from the rumpled neck of the yukata-type gown they’ve got him in. The low beeping from the absolute behemoth of the monitor itself beside the bed that’s got to be 15 years old at least, blocky numbers and jagged lines, hills and valleys in neon colors scrolling the tiny black screen. The chunky wired clip on his finger that Katsumi vaguely recognizes from TV but cannot for the life of him remember its purpose. And to cap it all off, the oxygen tube thing—cannula?—under his nose (which, what the hell, can he not even breathe properly right now). Like it’s all been pulled from some film set for dramatic flair. Maybe less sleek, with more underfunded-isekai-emergency-room vibes, but if anything that just piles on the nightmare fuel.

And he looks embarrassed about it. The fuck.

For few vastly uncomfortable seconds, nobody says anything at all. He’d thought Natsume would take the reins on this, but he doesn’t even look to see what the holdup is, because Katsumi himself is still mucking through what there even is to say.  No matter that he’s had hours to prepare, even practiced it once or twice in the bathroom mirror like an absolute lunatic, but he’s also been roundly warned by the others that any variation of why the fuck didn’t you say anything was off limits.  

It’s Tanuma who eventually speaks first. “I—“

“Save it,” is the first thing out of Katsumi’s mouth, because of course it is. Tanuma winces, and Natsume promptly elbows Katsumi in the ribs. Off to a great start. “We already know,” he amends. “Your dad told us you probably didn’t realize.”

Tanuma looks up, then. And yes, his gaze is maybe still little drug-hazed, but Katsumi’s still not sure how to feel about the look on his face, like Katsumi’s a math problem he can’t quite work out. He nods, slowly. “I’m sorry.”

The room isn’t even a room, really, just one cramped, curtained-off corner of a space containing three other beds. There’s a single, worn chair wedged in beside the bed, and Natsume drops into it now, now at Tanuma’s eye level. He reaches out, and Katsumi doesn’t miss the split half-second where his hand falters midair before coming to rest carefully on Tanuma’s forearm, fingertips just skimming the IV tube taped there.

“Sensei checked around,” Natsume tells him, tone gentle but serious. Huh. Little abrupt, not the first thing Katsumi would’ve expected out of his mouth here. “He said there wasn’t anything he could find, but. You weren’t attacked, were you?”

Tanuma frowns, like he wasn’t immediately expecting the question either, but then something seems to click behind his eyes. “I don’t think so?” he starts, and purses his lips like he’s thinking. His words are lower and slower than normal, but otherwise he doesn’t actually seem all that out of it, just exhausted. “I don’t remember that much. But I think it’d feel…different, than this.”

Something in the set of Natsume’s shoulders loosens, just barely. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he says, after a moment of consideration. And Katsumi doesn’t mean to snort, it just sort of comes out, but he immediately feels like a dick when Tanuma’s mouth twists and he drops his gaze again. But before he can backpedal on that, Natsume shoots him a look that could strip paint right off a wall, and he figures that shutting the fuck up is the best course of action.

But to be perfectly fair to himself, the guy can’t even sit up on his own without the raised end of the bed, and his face is the same eggshell color as the cheap sheets tucked around him, wherever it isn’t blotched up from his fever of fucking 39.

“…I mean,” Tanuma starts again, “not great or anything, but. Headache’s mostly gone, and,” he turns his head a little to indicate the blue pillow-like object under his head that Katsumi is only just realizing is an extra large jelly ice pack thing. “These are really cold but they’re helping a lot. There’s some more under my arms and legs.” He raises his shoulder a bit, and Katsumi notices the slight lumpiness of the yukata on the sides of his chest that must be more ice packs tucked under his armpits.

Natsume lets out a breath. “That’s good,” he says, and his smile seems much less forced now, softer. “Before you’re discharged, we’ll make sure nothing was out there, so. Don’t worry.”

“I won’t,” Tanuma says, and he’s clearly picked up on the undercurrent of fear in Natsume’s questions. “Thank you.”

It’s not like it’s a bad thing to see Natsume willing to actually feel his goddamn feelings in front of other people, it’s a definite improvement over the vapid not-quite-smiles and the empty eyes he and his classmates called creepy when they were kids. But this, he can definitively say, also sucks. Nishimura had briefly mentioned something about Natsume having been pretty shaken up when Kitamoto had been hospitalized for some minor accident a few months back, but it seems to go deeper than that, here. As if he’d implicitly blame himself for any and all nasty youkai shit in this apparently nasty-youkai-shit-infested-town. When he wasn’t even there. And, granted, Natsume might not respond well to it coming from Katsumi, but it is dumb, and Natsume should know that he is in fact being dumb.

The thought of said nasty youkai shit makes Katsumi remember to fish the little wood talisman out of his pocket. Maybe it’s not the time to bring it up, when Natsume’s freaked out enough as it is, but they’re going to be kicked out of here in about seven minutes. Some ENT had pried it out of Tanuma’s fingers in the back of the ambulance when they were trying to get an IV into his arm, and had passed it over to Katsumi. He found out soon enough that Taki had made the thing, using some obscure old exorcism texts from her grandfather’s library, which he’d honestly found pretty impressive until Sensei had had to ruin it by noting that the flimsy thing would have about the same repellent power against an average youkai that a squirt gun might have on a bear. Which, at least, made it seem it less likely that he’d been clinging to it because he really thought something was going to attack them. But when Katsumi had tried to return it to Taki, she’d given him a maddeningly incomprehensible look and just said, “Give it to him yourself.”

So he is. Hope she’s happy, because he for one feels some heavy sort of way about it that he does not have the energy to parse out right now.

“You dropped something,” he says, because that’s simpler than the truth. There’s not really room to squeeze himself in near Natsume at the bedside, and the other side’s got that mammoth monitor machine taking up most of the narrow space, so he just sort of hovers behind Natsume somewhere beside Tanuma’s legs. He reaches over, drops the talisman lightly on his knee.

Tanuma blinks down at it, slowly raises his hand to place overtop of it. The movement is awkward and slow, between the clip on the finger of this hand and the gel pack wedged under his arm, but his remaining fingers close around it. He looks up at Katsumi, eyes wide. “You—“

“It’s whatever,” he says with a shrug, before Tanuma can even get the words out. He’s not in the mood to be thanked right now. “It, uh. Looked pretty important, though. You were squeezing it damn tight enough.”

That earns him a sharp over-the-shoulder look from Natsume, a don’t-you-fucking-tease-him-or-so-help-me-god face if ever Katsumi saw it.

Katsumi ignores him. That wasn’t the point. Because despite the fact that Sensei had patrolled the area, and that it made the most sense that he’d been clinging to the talisman out of some delirious attempt at self-soothing, if there was any chance he’d been desperate to grab for it because it was better than nothing at all if something was hanging around, that’d be pretty damn good information to have before any of them have to walk that road again. Maybe seeing it would jog his memory.

Apparently not, though. He manages, awkwardly, to flip the thing over so it rests in his palm, even though it jostles the clip just enough to elicit a few abrupt pi-pi-pis  from the machine beside him. “All I really remember,” he says, at length, “is leaving home, then Lawson, kind of, and then, ah.” His eyes flick upwards, for the barest second, not even making it up to Katsumi’s eyes before his gaze drops right back down like a stone.

“What?”

Tanuma’s fingers close tight as they’re able around the talisman, and he looks so thoroughly miserable that Katsumi’s starting to be sorry he asked.

“I remember throwing up on you,” he mutters.

And that startles a chuckle out of Katsumi. It’s a sharp, awkward sound in the hush of the room. But it feels good, like a crack forming some gigantic dam that barely fits in his chest anymore. Another follows.

Natsume glares. 

And okay, yes, it’s got to be a dick move to be laughing right now. The splotchy bits of Tanuma’s face have grown even splotchier as he stares down at his talisman, and the heart monitor’s tempo has kicked up a bit.

“Seriously?” Katsumi manages, catching his breath, before Natsume gets the chance to declare war here. “That’s the part you remember.” The guy’s subconscious must really have it out for him, because Tanuma legitimately looks like he’s about to faint.

And that’s no good, either.

“Look,” he starts, and drops down to perch awkwardly on the bedside edge somewhere near Tanuma’s shin, opposite Natsume. At least like this he’s not looming like a creep over the foot of the bed anymore. “For life-threatening situations? Free pass. And I got some new threads out of it anyways,” he says, plucking at the sleeve of his borrowed shirt. “Timeless classics.”

They actually look fine, some nondescript green button down and dark chinos belonging to Shigeru-san, though when he’d thrown them on this morning he’d barely even registered what he was wearing anyhow. Nishimura, Kitamoto and Taki are all wearing the same clothes they’d worn yesterday, still a little damp from being hastily laundered and hung to dry indoors overnight, but Katsumi’s things are currently still soaking in a bucket of oxygen cleaner on the Fujiwaras’ veranda, and Natsume’s clothes are all a size too small for him.

“It’s not your fault for getting sick,” Natsume tells him, gentle but direct, when Tanuma doesn’t immediately respond. Which is exactly what Katsumi just said. But whatever. Tanuma huffs out through his nose, a soft halting sound that makes an odd little whistle over the top of the cannula, and finally looks up at Katsumi. There’s something taut behind his eyes, but least he looks marginally less like wants to evaporate into the goddamn ether anymore.

“I, just.” He shifts in his seat a little, swallows, but keeps talking. “This all must’ve been…a lot, for you, so. I’m sorry. Thanks for getting help.”

“‘Course.” Katsumi shrugs, still not really sold on the idea of being thanked right now. “I’m not a total monster.”

That, at least, elicits some sorry little suggestion of a smile from him. He’ll take it.

“But, with your dad saying you didn’t realize, though,” he starts, before he can think better of the question. “Has this happened before?”

Natsume looks a little wary, as though he’s ready to shut this conversation right down if need be—which, fair enough—but is also watching Tanuma like he isn’t exactly not curious, either.

But Tanuma says, “Sort of?” and cocks his head like he’s trying to remember. “In third or fourth grade, maybe. There was this school clean-up event just before the summer break, and…I don’t exactly remember what happened, but I guess the teachers realized when they did a head count at lunch.” He shakes his head a little. “Anyways. That town was…we didn’t live there long.”

Katsumi’s not at all sure what to make of that last bit, though Natsume looks perturbed by it. But something’s not quite adding up regardless. “Wait,” he says, frowning, “if this was a school clean-up, wouldn’t you all have been working in pairs or groups or something?”

Tanuma shrugs. “I guess?”

“You got ditched,” Katsumi concludes, flatly. “That’s fucked up.”

“…I mean…” He’s starting to look uncomfortable again, his fingers picking at the edges of the talisman. “I couldn’t actually attend school there all that often, so. I didn’t really know many people’s names, or anything. It’s okay, really.”

No, it’s fucked up, he wants to say, only to remember the other person in the room right now. Natsume doesn’t look particularly happy to hear this story, but he doesn’t look surprised, either. Like he very much gets it. And Katsumi’s acutely aware that he himself the last person who should have anything to say about any of this at all.

And the kicker is, yeah, he knows how cruel and ugly kids can be to each other, because god knows Katsumi was, but this doesn’t even sound like that. Tanuma had recounted it as though he were as good as a stranger to his classmates, and vice versa.

Katsumi glances at the talisman again, at the marker ink that’s gone splotchy in the corners visible under pale fingertips. And, unwillingly, he thinks of some sickly nine-year-old, lying lost behind some tree or tool shed, nobody looking for him at all.

A long buzz from his pocket punctuates the silence. Then another. Katsumi doesn’t need to fish his phone out to know it’s Mom. Again.

“It’s fine,” he mutters, when two pairs of eyes flick towards him. “I’ll get it later.”

He’s been putting off actually speaking to her; he knows Touko-san called her sometime yesterday and since then he’s mostly just been sending her messages to check in and vaguely reassure her. He’ll have to talk to her soon, but he likes to think he’s got enough dignity left in him to not want that to happen anywhere remotely near any of these guys. The thought makes something itch in his throat.

“You know,” Tanuma starts, after a moment, voice quiet but clear. “It really is okay for you to go.”

“Nah.” Katsumi shrugs. “Like I said. Nothing better to do back home either. Except get nagged about holiday homework.”

Tanuma nods, once. He doesn’t necessarily look unhappy, but there’s a thread of unease in his voice. “You’re welcome to stay,” he says, “but…you’re here for, what, five more days? Six? And, ah.” He casts a glance at that giant beeping machine beside him, then around the cramped room that doesn’t even have a window or real walls. And he looks so tired. “I’ll be here. And then on bedrest when I’m out, they said, so…”

Katsumi frowns. “…so?” he echoes. “Is this about the cleaning? ‘Cause fuck the cleaning.”

Tanuma just blinks, nonplussed, and Natsume sighs and rubs vaguely at his temple like he’s got a headache coming on. “Shibata,” he mutters, but there’s no bite to it.

Katsumi rolls his eyes. “I meant, it’s not your problem right now.”

“But it shouldn’t just be yours, either,” Tanuma says, gaze drifting back to that damned machine again. “You’re here because I asked, and now there’ll be even more, with less time.”

This is starting to feel like a stupid conversation to Katsumi, because he has the suspicion that even Tanuma’s dad wouldn’t be all that bothered right now about offending someone’s dead great-great-aunt on Obon with a dusty altar or two. So it’s probably for the best that Natsume speaks up before Katsumi has the chance to.

“He is right that you don’t need to worry about it right now,” Natsume tells him. “But, there’s still plenty of time, too. And Sensei and I can try and find some extra hands, too.”

“Extra…” Tanuma frowns. “Would that work, though?”

Katsumi’s not a hundred percent on the specifics here, but he’d heard in passing from Sensei that most of the local youkai population weren’t too keen on hanging out around Yatsuhara Temple. Natsume’s finger drums lightly on the bedrail, like he’s considering, and then there’s a flash of…something…in his eyes, something steely enough to maybe just unnerve your run-of-the-mill forest-dwelling flesh-eating folkloric monster.

It’ll be fine.

“Either way, it’s just an extra day or so, right? We’ll get it done,” Natsume says, decisively.

“Yeah, we spent a lot of the first couple days just kind of fucking around, anyhow,” Katsumi adds. It’s not all that true—there had been a little downtime in the evenings, some idle rounds of shogi on the veranda, placing bets against each other on pocket change and cheap snacks, but they’d all more or less collapsed into the lumpy borrowed futons by 10PM each night. It still sounds like a helpful thing to say. Maybe. “We’ll just hustle a bit. It’s all good.”

Tanuma looks torn. “I…thank you. Really. But, I’m the one that actually lives there.” His expression settles on a rueful smile. “And I couldn’t even walk to the store, so. I’m sorry.”

Okay, yeah, no, this is stupid, actually.

Katsumi huffs. “Yeah, all according to your big evil master plan, huh. Luring us all here just to do all the heavy lifting.”

Natsume’s head snaps up sharply at that, and Tanuma just stares, but Katsumi plows on.

“Because that’s how chronic illness works, right? If you can’t just guess and pinpoint all its exact fucking whims day to day, which, by the way, are caused by invisible invisible monsters half the time anyways, then you’re just a super inconsiderate guy, huh. Oh, and dramatic. ‘Cause that’s totally what we’ve all been sitting out there thinking.”

He’s met with silence, from both of them. Which is, basically, the worst possible reaction to receive when you’ve just been on the verge of shouting at someone stuck in a hospital bed. Natsume had looked, at first, reflexively ready to bite right back, but instead he’s watching Tanuma, like he’s holding his breath. They both are.

It’s not a term he’s given much thought to before. Ever, really. Until earlier, hearing Tanuma’s father’s half of a hushed, somber call with some relative or another from the lobby (“…symptoms of heatstroke, but the chronic illness had exacerbated the situation, so at the moment, he’s…”).

Katsumi wonders, vaguely, how they’ve must’ve had him classified in his charts over the years. Generalized Youkai Shenanigan Disorder must be a real head-scratcher to the medical community at large.

But he looks normal, is the thing. A bit underslept, sure. And lugging heavy boxes around all day gets him winded a little faster than the others. And he takes more care than the rest of them to stop for water, but that’s just being responsible. It wasn’t like he hadn’t kept up, hadn’t been fine.

Katsumi had only got the most cursory of explanations, back when they’d first met. That he’d been sick as a kid a lot, moved around often because of it, that it had gotten a lot better when he’d moved here, met Natsume. And he looks so shockingly ordinary that Katsumi would’ve never known.

And Katsumi doesn’t know if anything really was out there in that dusty field with them. Doesn’t think it matters, ultimately.

Maybe it is better these days. And maybe it’s pointless to even speculate, if he hasn’t lived it. But it sure as hell sounds to Katsumi like living with a landmine buried in your skin. Doesn’t matter how deep down it’s sunk, how quiet it seems. Not like it’s not there.  

Nobody’s said anything, still. Natsume’s watching Tanuma. Tanuma’s watching his own lap.

“Am I kicked out?” Katsumi asks, arms folding.

“No.”

Katsumi barely hears him; his voice sounds half-stuck and dried-up. But then Tanuma looks up, fully, and his eyes are wet.

Shit.

“I mean.” He clears his throat. It doesn’t do much. “Soon? But. Not by me.” He seems to realize about the tears, then, and absently reaches up to scrub at his eyes.

Which, naturally, knocks the mysterious beeping finger clip right off, sending it flying right over the side of the bed.

The behemoth next to the bed immediately starts pi-pi-pi-ing, urgent and shrill, and Katsumi swears, swooping down to snag the little clip by the wire now dangling over the bedrail, and slides it back onto Tanuma’s finger. He doesn’t have a clue if it’s on backwards or not, and is only pretty sure that it had been on his index finger before, but at the very least the noise dies down. And he can’t hear anybody rushing in to check if they’ve killed someone, for the moment.

“Sorry,” Tanuma murmurs, while Natsume readjusts the cannula thing he’d knocked a little crooked. The tube’s kind of misty now, just under his nose, and Katsumi briefly wonders what happens if that thing gets too clogged up with snot to work properly.

Because Katsumi had to go and run his mouth.

Natsume fishes out the talisman from where it’s fallen into the sheets, and presses it back into Tanuma’s palm. “We came to help,” he tells him, snatching a corner of the bedsheet to help mop up his cheeks before he can forget again about the clip, or jostle the IV port or gel packs. “So let us. And rest, okay?”

“Yeah,” Katsumi mutters. “That.” He feels like he’s hovering, blunt and mean and too big for his own skin for this tiny-ass non-room. Glances at his watch, scuffs his heel on the floor. “It’s almost time. You know Nishimura’s probably gonna deck me for making you cry.”

Katsumi can’t immediately clock the sharp little hiccup as laughter. Sounds a little more like an injured corgi to him, but when he looks at Tanuma, there’s a little waver in the set of his mouth, and his shoulders have relaxed, just a bit.

Natsume’s expression is dry—you’d have brought it on yourself if he does—but he seems mollified, his hand having found its careful way back onto Tanuma’s arm like it was coming back home.

Tanuma looks up. His eyes are still red-rimmed, but that desolate look has receded somewhat. “You didn’t—“ he starts.

“I mean, I did,” Katsumi counters.

Tanuma smushes his lips together, tries again. “I’m okay.”

Katsumi raises an eyebrow, makes a vague sweep of the arm around the terrible little space, all the equipment crammed around and connected to him. “Yup. Clearly.” 

Tanuma sighs, just looks at him for a moment. And maybe it’s not an improvement, Katsumi thinks, if Tanuma’s circling back to just finding him exhausting to talk to, but then that’s no worse than yesterday before all this shit began.

“Thank you,” Tanuma tells him, finally. His voice is soft but sure.

Katsumi shrugs. Always down to bully a hospital patient. I’m your guy.

But the words dig in, stick in place like nettles. And it hurts, kind of, a nagging sort of prickle embedded in Katsumi’s chest.

It’s not so bad, though.

“Sure,” he offers.  “Now rest up, or else. This place is the worst.”

***

[lara-cairncross]

Hi! how are you? I hope fine!

I wanted to know if you could recommend me some Mikey angst fanfics. I feel like I've read them all and at the same time I haven't, hehe.

Love your fairy AU its verry beautyful

(My english is not the best 😅)

heya! i'm glad you like the au :D

I can definitely give u some recommendations for michelangelo fanfics! can't guarantee you haven't read them already, but hopefully a few of them are novel. also gonna tag @roronoacoldbrew, @desterea, and @appleblondie0397, cuz y'all asked for some mikey recs too!

I'm not gonna include all my recs, cuz that would take ages, but I DO have a collection on Ao3 that has like, ~250 entries. and they're 90% mikey-centric, sooooo there's a lot more there! it's linked at the bottom of this post :D

i'll be your detonator -> rottmnt, 4k one-shot, oh my god this fic/series deserves so much more attention. bad future timeline, follows Mikey being THE coolest motherfucker while having several mental breakdowns and arguing with Leo and missing his brothers a lot. the writing style of this author is probably my favorite on this entire list-- like, I would read a novel written like this!!! please read it oh my GOD. and then message me to tell me you read it so I can have somebody to talk about it with I LOVE THIS FIC SO MUCH

atrophy -> 2012, 36k two-shot. ohhhhh boy this one is NOTHING but angst. follows Mikey reflecting on his life and his relationships with his brothers, right before a suicide attempt. second chapter is his brothers reflecting on their relationships with him as they try to save his life. if I'm being honest, the language is a little too flowery for my taste at certain points? but it's also VERY visceral and graphic, and if you're looking for angst this is literally as angsty as it gets!! like seriously check the tags on this one

1660 days ago -> rottmnt, 4k one-shot human au that isn't exactly mikey-centric?? but basically, follows Donnie's POV after he, Raph, and Leo all die in their family home and stay behind as ghosts. Mikey is a little kid who moves in and is the only one who can see them, and they all begrudgingly adore him. ITS SO CUTE AND IT NEEDS MORE ATTENTION PLEASE. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

over the rainbow -> 2012 x rottmnt, by @vanillavengeance! I think a lot of people have read their other fic (which is also amazing and definitely recommended), but their most recent one is SO GOOD ALREADY and it deserves more attention. Rise!Mikey opens a portal as a tot, falls straight into the 2012 verse, and gets found by Karai-- so he ends up in the hands of the Foot Clan! SUCH good Mikey angst and the relationship between 2012 Raph and Rise Mikey is absolutely adorable, I love them so much :,) 2012 RAPH IS SUCH A BIG BROTHER AND I WILL NEVER SHUT UP ABOUT IT

house away from home -> 2012, AuDHD Mikey rep!! and also anxiety and self-esteem issues and dysfunctional family activities and swufhehnfenhhjrr HEY I LOVE THIS FIC but it does. hit a little close to home. REALLY WELL WRITTEN AND FANTASTIC EMOTIONAL ANGST THO! and also Woody is here :D completed, but the author has it listed as 3/4 chapters, so don't be scared off by that!

choose wisely (or at all) -> rottmnt, 8k one-shot, turtle tots!!! this one is SO CUTE omg-- basically, Mikey is his brothers' favorite playmate, but because he's so little all three of them just kinda??? make him play whatever they wanna play? LIKE ok it's hard to explain but it's literally just a fic about little kids messing around and how being the youngest sibling sucks and learning to speak up for urself and it's PERFECT. THIS IS MY COMFORT FIC. its sweet its fluffy its (slightly) angsty and i love it dearly!!!!

stalling -> 2012, 1k one-shot. VERY short but pure Mikey angst. he stays behind to fight Shredder to give his human siblings time to escape and warn the other turtles :,)

walk with open hands -> 2012, 10k two-shot by @goodlucktai. Mikey gets his hands on one of Renet's time-traveling clocks after Splinter dies, and jumps around the timeline to try and save him. takes some really cool cues from Rise!Mikey's powers! GOD I CANNOT RECOMMEND THIS FIC ENOUGH. like this altered my brain chemistry the first time I read it.

--actually now that I think about it. basically ANYTHING BY THIS AUTHOR IS AMAZING. so much fantastic 2012 Mikey-centric stuff!!! you do have to go back to their older works, since most of their recent fics have been about Rise Leo-- but it's worth it! a few of my other favorites by them are:

the entire give up the ghost series -> 2012 human au where Donnie dies, Mikey is the only one who can see him, and he becomes a paranormal investigator in college because of it;

problem child -> 2012 human/highschool au that's basically 100k words of the 2012 boys fucking around and being family and overcoming difficulties together and Mikey being the most annoying lovable golden-retriever ray of sunshine to ever exist;

traveling so far to get there -> 2012 one-shot where Mikey and Raph end up in a post-apocalyptic world and just kinda,,, chill? until they don't. idk how to explain it but it's really fun, I love how Mikey and Raph's dynamic is written here :D

either way, we're not alone -> rottmnt, 16k one-shot that takes place over the course of the Kraang invasion in the bad future timeline, all from Mikey's POV. another one that doesn't have NEARLY as many hits as it deserves oh my god-- I love love love fics that take a look at this timeline and how fucked up it was! and this is a rly nice mikey-centric one :)

promise -> rottmnt, 8k two-shot by @dysfunctional-doodle. Listen this author has so many amazing Mikey fics from basically every iteration, BUT. THIS ONE. THIS FIC IN PARTICULAR. IS ABSOLUTELY MY FAVORITE. follows Mikey in the good timeline as he grows his mystic powers, with the caveat that he starts seeing visions of the future. I ain't spoiling anything more than that but GOD plz read this one it makes me insane, and the second chapter??? HEARTBREAKING the angst is 10/10. I also really really love this fic by the same author, so that's another one I recommend checking out if you haven't read it before!

big siblings, big family -> 2012, 2k one-shot. this one's pretty short BUT ITS SO CUTE. Mikey gets sick with a virus that only infects mutants, so all his human siblings get to take care of him-- featuring big brother Casey and big sister April and big sister Karai, and hey. hey what if I screamed. i love this concept so much THOSE ARE HIS BIG SIBLINGS!!! AND HE'S THEIR LITTLE BROTHER!!!! this makes me so happy, not super angsty but Mikey does get REALLY sick so you can count it as hurt/comfort :D

orenjinohana -> rottmnt, currently 120k+ words by @geoblitzz and @urlocalllama!! this fic is SO fucking angsty and delicious and terrifying,,, like I would get sick to my stomach with anxiety whenever a new chapter dropped. Mikey catches the eye of a really dangerous yokai and gets kidnapped, abuse and gaslighting and angst ensue. you gotta be especially careful with the tags/trigger warnings on this one tho-- not gonna spoil too much, but things get dark. this fic isn't complete, but it's reached a very natural end to its first arc in my opinion? so you can finish it without feeling like you've read an incomplete fic :) also check the comment section on every chapter if u wanna see me going insane I LOVE THIS FIC SO MUCH

the better half of better things -> 2012, 4k one-shot, ITS SO FUCKING CUTE. Mikey and Leo hanging out at 3am, Leo comes out as transfem to Mikey, sibling bonding ensues. this is another author that I LOVE the writing style of, but this time it's more for their humor??? like the comedic timing in their fics is SO GOOD. this fic in particular is my favorite but they've written some really fun Rise ones too! not angsty at all but as the CEO of baja blast duo I needed to include it lmao

wanting, getting, needing -> rottmnt, 2.5k one-shot. Mikey dies saving Leo during the events of the movie, and everything kinda falls apart without him. this one's pretty short but ngl I LOVE this concept, Mikey is always depicted as the heart of the team in every iteration so it's super fun to see what happens when he's no longer there!

remember your mission -> 2012, 60k words. IT'S A FUCKING MIKEY-CENTRIC PACIFIC RIM AU. I love this fic to death. it's got ANGST it's got COMFORT it's got SIBLING BONDING it's got,,,, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. but also the sillies being silly!!! anyway the ending broke me. read this one at ur own risk but like,,, DO ACTUALLY READ IT LMAO and then. once again. yell at me that you did so I can talk to somebody about it. Mikey being able to drift with basically any of his family members??? and the four main boys all being interchangeable because they're just THAT close????? perfection

someone to protect -> 2012, 3k one-shot. Mikey's brothers get turtlenapped during a mission that goes wrong, he gets to be a badass and rescue them, and ends up getting seriously injured in the process. hurt and comfort! yay!

our hearts beat louder (than thunder) -> rottmnt, currently 5k words by @belleyells and still being updated as far as I know! Mikey gets injured during a battle and loses his memory; cue older brothers being worried sick and trying to prevent Mikey from freaking out and being scared of them. I'm so excited to see where this one is going!! it's angsty, but Mikey with memory loss is also just,,, really fun to read about in my opinion ahdhehfhrh

the night at rucker park -> rottmnt, 78k words. Shellshocked fic!!! honestly, one of the few Mikey/Miles fics where I feel like both of them are characterized really accurately? anyway its ~80k words of the two of them falling in love and fucking around and being idiots and-- in Miles' case-- slowly experiencing cellular decay! Yay for angst! I know I keep saying this but GOD I LOVE THIS FIC. IT DESERVES MORE ATTENTION. give it some love plz, it's also one of the only finished Shellshocked multi-chapter fics I could find (coming from somebody who currently has an unfinished multi-chapter Shellshocked fic shhhhhh)

be like your brothers (and never like yourself) -> 2012, 25k words. this is another author who has so many FANTASTIC mikey-centric fics from multiple iterations, but this one is definitely my favorite from them!! Mikey's self-worth is so low that he starts picking up specific traits from each of his brothers in an effort to be more "useful", which. doesn't go very well. very angsty, lots of mikey hurting (emotionally and physically), but also pretty cute at the end! hurt/comfort my beloved mwah <333 I LOVE THIS FIC SO MUCH something about it itches my brain

feed me poison till i drown -> 2007, 8k one-shot. Leo leaves, everything kinda falls apart, aaaaand Mikey ends up being convinced to join the Foot Clan by Karai! and the eventually his brothers find out and everything goes very terribly wrong. and i love it. the ending is also left up to interpretation, so it's a really cool read! not super angsty, but Karai's mind games leave Mikey as an unreliable narrator, and the breakdown of his relationship with his family is really well done :D plus anything with Karai and Mikey bonding makes me happy sooooooo

trust is earned (not freely given) -> 2007, 2.5k one-shot, from the same author as the previous entry I believe? mikey's brothers slowly realize that something is wrong with him-- they can't read his emotions or his actions anymore, he dodges questions, etc etc. eventually donnie realizes that they fucked up and he doesn't know how to fix it! no real resolution, just angst and dysfunctional families YAY

when you can't sleep at night -> rottmnt, 7k one-shot. follows three separate instances in Mikey's life where he had trouble falling asleep for whatever reason, went to his brothers for help, and got all the sibling love and comfort he deserves :D primarily fluffy but there's definitely some hurt/comfort in here, especially for the part that takes place after the events of the movie! this is another comfort fic for me ahdhehfhher it's just. very cute. and it reminds me SO MUCH of my little brother when he was a toddler SO IT MAKES ME FEEL SAD AND HAPPY AT THE SAME TIME RAHHHHH

so, I guess we all have issues -> 2012, 122k, human au. OH MY GOD. LISTEN LISTEN LISTEN EVERYTHING BY THIS AUTHOR IS SOME OF THE BEST SHIT YOU'LL READ IN THIS FANDOM BUT THIS FIC IN PARTICULAR WAS SOOOOO FUCKING GOOD. super fucking angsty, but also a lot of sibling bonding??? technically found family??? basically, the 2012 boys all get reincarnated as humans, but Mikey is the only one who remembers their past lives and the fact that they're siblings. he goes on this whole journey to find out where Leo and Raph and Donnie ended up (kinda? cuz in the end they all sort of come to HIM instead but yknow), and has to convince them of the fact that they were mutant ninja turtles in a past life. so that's fun! also raph is trans and leo has PTSD and donnie is struggling as a child genius AND ITS SO GOOD AND SO ANGSTY AND SO FLUFFY AND ITS COMPLETED SO THERES NO REASON WHY YOU SHOULDNT READ THIS RIGHT FUCKING NOW RAHHHHHH

other fics (specifically mikey-centric) by the same author because i swear to god they're LEGENDARY TO ME:

on the flipside -> rottmnt one-shot where April and the boys get hit with some kind of species-swap spell, and April ends up as a mutant turtle while the boys end up as humans;

exhaust trails through space -> 2012 one-shot where Donnie and Mikey need a fucking vacation from Earth (don't we all), so Donnie gets a spaceship from Bishop and Pb&J duo get to fuck around the cosmos for a few weeks and ignore their problems while actually enjoying each others' company;

(un)reality -> 2012 two-shot where Mikey gets captured by the Kraang during his stint in Dimension X and basically gets brainwashed to the point where he tries to kill his brothers when they finally come for him;

play the fool, pity the fool -> 2012 two-shot with MEGA depressed Mikey, this one in particular is really well written-- his downward spiral into depression, his suicide attempt, and his eventual recovery are all written beautifully and realistically and MMM it's so fucking good;

if i could have it back -> 2012 one-shot human au/apocalypse/zombie au, where Mikey and Donnie get separated from the rest of their family and have to survive long enough to find them again;

these days -> 2012 multichapter, unfinished BUT basically Mikey and Donnie get fed up with the way Leo and Raph are acting after Splinter's death (this fic definitely bashes them a little but it's still a good read), and decide to leave the lair and build their own home away from their dysfunctional family;

division difference -> 2012 multichapter, also sadly unfinished BUT it's about Donnie and Mikey getting separated from Splinter and their brothers as tots and growing up feral-- super intriguing concept, and very well written :DD

the broken and the helper -> rottmnt, 9k words. Mikey playing therapist for literally his whole family except himself and completely burning out. and then his brothers figure that out and talk to him and its all very fluffy and sweet in the end and sometimes that's what i need. not super angsty, but definitely hurt/comfort!

angelo -> rottmnt, 4k one-shot. AUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH MIKEY GETTING THE NICKNAME "ANGELO" FROM LEO BC LEO SEES HIM AS A GUARDIAN ANGEL. baja blast duo fics you have such a special place in my heart (I need more of them) AND THIS ONE IS JUST SO CUTE IM SORRY. a little bit of angst bc of,,,, movie events? but still very cute :)

consuming darkness -> 2012, 68k words. Mikey messes up on a mission and it ends up getting Donnie seriously injured. he gets blamed by his brothers, internalizes it, gets serious with his training and basically becomes this like??? cold-blooded murderer on a revenge mission??? LISTEN LISTEN LISTEN I am. SUCH a lover stories where a character loses/sacrifices everything about their personality to become what they think everyone wants them to be. THIS IS THAT STORY. and then when Raph and Leo realize what's happened to Mikey and have no idea how to "fix" him??? THATS THE GOOD SHIT OH MY GOD. love this fic inject it straight into my veins. on fanfiction.net instead of ao3 (and sadly unfinished), but it's really good for Mikey angst :3

new tricks -> 2012, 3k one-shot, another one from fanfic.net! this one isn't angsty at all, just Mikey and Splinter hanging and bonding together :D I love it though, it's such a cute little fic and very comforting to read ahdhehfhehfhr

no one is alone -> rottmnt, 23k words currently! follows Mikey dealing with everyone's emotional shit after the events of the movie,,,, except his own obviously lmao so he turns to self-harm as a way to relieve stress and anxiety, eventually gets found out, anddddd his brothers help him through recovery :) it's currently unfinished but still being updated as far as I know, and if you want angst, there you go!

temporal differential -> 2012, 7k one-shot. follows Mikey getting stuck in Dimension X for a lot longer than he lets on, and losing hope of his brothers finding him. this one's part of a mini series that kinda revolves around Mikey's time there? and the aftermath? there's a ton of fics that follow this concept but this one isn't tagged very well and doesn't have a lot of hits, so there's a chance you haven't read it if you're looking for new Mikey angst fics to read! plus mikey gets to be smart :333

breakfast for sensei -> 2012, 6.5k one-shot. WHILE WE'RE ON THE TOPIC OF DIMENSION X. this one's about the aftermath!!! AND it has Mikey and Splinter bonding at 3am so I love it so so so dearly. Mikey struggles a lot with nightmares and insomnia after he gets stuck in Dimension X, and eventually opens up to Splinter about his time there and how LONG he was alone and gets some much-needed advice and love. good angst, good comfort, Splinter being a good dad, love love love this one. plus you get a free breakfast recipe! yay!

we'll burn them down -> 2012, 9k one-shot. OKAY LAST ONE ABOUT DIMENSION X I PROMISE. sunset duo focus-- Raph is the first one to figure out that something is off with Mikey, and he's gotta decide how to deal with it! Mikey gets to be a scary badass after surviving alone for so long, Raph gets to be a worried older brother, and Donnie,,,, gets to be there too i guess lmao like i said it's very much a sunset duo fic. enjoy the angst! the hurt/comfort! it's lovely!

empty canvas -> rottmnt, 43k words. I honestly don't remember a lot about this one, BUT Mikey basically takes Leo's place in the prison dimension after opening the portal to get him out?? very very angsty, lots of hurt Mikey! sadly it's unfinished (and it doesn't seem like it'll be updated anytime soon), but what's there definitely qualifies as Mikey angst if that's what you're looking for :) and ofc lots of worried older brothers, which I adore.

--and then ofc, I have a bunch of my own Mikey-centric fics here! I've really only written for Rise so far, but I'm dedicated to mikey angst o7

and like I said, I also have a whole collection on ao3 dedicated just to my favorite TMNT fics! there's genuinely SO MANY MORE I could recommend, but I tried to stick to ones that are older/don't have as many hits?? Kinda?

The rest of my recs would be in this collection! Most are Mikey-centric, but there's a few in there for the other boys too:

for my rottmnt hyperfix | Archive of Our Own

I should warn you though-- I didn't have my collection moderated originally, so people could add their own fics to the collection if they wanted! but then some weirdo Tc*ster ended up adding their shit to it, and I'm pretty sure there's at LEAST one tc*st fic in there somewhere. I've locked it down since then and don't allow outside contributions anymore, but you might wanna filter those tags out :( I contacted ao3 about removing those fics but I never heard anything back. just a warning!!

anyway. hopefully this is helpful for the, like, five people who ALSO feel like they've read every single Mikey fic in existence lmao

[beasttrash]

spot art i drew for @goodlucktai's fic for the @opfluffzine!!

you can read the fic here!!

[mykimouser]

Literally been doing nothing for months but spiralling over @goodlucktai's Archer AU. Specifically Gio's relationship with his littlest (big?) brother.

Time shenanigans are a thing that can be love persevering actually.